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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27220597">Love Letter</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/deleiterious/pseuds/deleiterious'>deleiterious</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - High School, American Football, Awkward Crush, F/M, Fluff, Gen, High School, Love Letters, Other, Romance, Romantic Friendship, Valentine's Day</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 20:14:21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>7,149</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27220597</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/deleiterious/pseuds/deleiterious</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>When Garreg Mach High's resident recluse Bernadetta von Varley finds a letter in her locker on Valentine's Day, calling it a surprise would be a gross understatement.</p><p>---</p><p>Raphael x Bernadetta High School AU.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Ashe Duran | Ashe Ubert &amp; Petra Macneary, Raphael Kirsten/Bernadetta von Varley</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>38</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>45</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Love Letter</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The halls of Garreg Mach High are plastered in Valentine's Day posters, each club featuring a different holiday special.</p><p> </p><p>Literature club will craft a customized poem for a few dollars. Cooking club is selling heart-shaped cookies. For a hefty sum, the choir will even deliver singing telegrams during lunch. Raphael ignores the fliers as he makes a bee-line for the art club.</p><p> </p><p>As usual, Ignatz sits sketching out a forest landscape, blond bangs hanging over his tawny eyes. The art room is otherwise empty; Ignatz spends all his time here, even when his club isn't in session.</p><p> </p><p>"Ignatz!" Raphael plants himself right next to his best friend with such force it sends art supplies skittering to the floor.</p><p> </p><p>"Hey, Raphael," he says, not looking up from his work.</p><p> </p><p>"Are you doing anything for Valentine's Day?"</p><p> </p><p>Ignatz looks at him with a start. "What? Me?"</p><p> </p><p>"Yeah!"</p><p> </p><p>"N-no? Why would you think--"</p><p> </p><p>"You're not?" Raphael looks incredulous, then groans.</p><p> </p><p>"Is something the matter?" Ignatz gently closes the sketchbook, bewilderment in the set of his eyebrows. "You never talk about Valentine's Day."</p><p> </p><p>Raphael clears his throat, a small tinge of color on his cheeks. "I was hoping you could help me with something."</p><p> </p><p>"Okay," Ignatz responds slowly, "what is it?"</p><p> </p><p>Raphael extracts a sheet of notebook paper from his back pocket. It looks tattered, folded and re-folded so many times that it resembles an ancient parchment fit for a museum more than it should. "I need help writing a letter."</p><p> </p><p>Ignatz takes the letter and smooths it open. His mouth drops open in shock as his eyes rove over the words. "Raphael, is this a love letter?"</p><p> </p><p>Raphael grimaces. "It's supposed to be, but it doesn't sound very good, does it? You know I'm no good with words, Ignatz. I was hoping you could help make this more..." Raphael shrugs, at a loss for words.</p><p> </p><p>"Romantic?" Ignatz offers, eyebrows scrunched together apprehensively.</p><p> </p><p>"Yeah! Exactly, romantic."</p><p> </p><p>Ignatz scratches the back of his head. "Raphael, I'm not exactly a writer. Why don't you ask the literature club to write you a poem? Valentine's Day is tomorrow, but you still have time."</p><p> </p><p>"I thought about that, but I really wanted this to be more personal, you know?"</p><p> </p><p>"Who is this for? The last time you had a crush was in the second grade."</p><p> </p><p>Raphael swings his head around the empty classroom before lowering his voice conspiratorially. "Bernadetta."</p><p> </p><p>"Bernadetta...? The shy one? Have you even talked to her?" If Ignatz remembers correctly, she's the school recluse, and flat-out refuses to speak to anyone outside of, perhaps, two people in the entire school.</p><p> </p><p>"She sits behind me in English." Raphael's earnest expression melts into a lovelorn smile. "She's really nice to me. Let's me borrow her pencils and stuff when I forget mine."</p><p> </p><p>"That's what you like about her? She...lets you borrow stuff?"</p><p> </p><p>Raphael makes an impatient noise in the back of his throat, gesturing pointedly to the letter. Ignatz returns to the letter, but there isn't much more to glean from it, although Raphael seems to think otherwise. Much like Raphael himself, the letter is earnest, simple, and straightforward. According to it, Bernadetta von Varley is smart, pretty and nice. And Raphael Kirsten really,<em> really </em>likes her.</p><p> </p><p>"What's going on here?" a voice cuts in. Raphael snatches the letter from Ignatz's hands in a panic before they realize that it's only Leonie. She's dressed in a rumpled track uniform, her short hair beaded with sweat where it sticks to her forehead. "C'mon, guys. I'm starving. Let's get some food before I die of hunger."</p><p> </p><p>"Oh, is it that late already?" Ignatz slips the sketchbook into his backpack. "Wait, Leonie! You're a girl!"</p><p> </p><p>Leonie gives him a flat stare. "Thanks for noticing," she deadpans.</p><p> </p><p>"Raphael, Leonie could probably help you with the letter!"</p><p> </p><p>Raphael brightens considerably, slapping a crumpled piece of paper into her hands. She stumbles back in surprise, her large eyes blinking rapidly as she tries to understand what she's reading.</p><p> </p><p>"Uh," she says finally, "is this a love letter?" She suddenly breaks into a laugh, clapping Raphael across the back. "Wow, Raph. I didn't expect this from you. I definitely cannot help you with this."</p><p> </p><p>"Why not?" both of them respond simultaneously.</p><p> </p><p>Leonie grins, tucking the paper into Raphael's pocket. "I don't know the first thing about liking someone, so you've got the wrong girl. Maybe you should try Hilda."</p><p> </p><p>"Do you think the letter is good as-is?" Raphael asks.</p><p> </p><p>"Why don't you just tell her how you feel in person?"</p><p> </p><p>Raphael's ears burn at the thought. "No, I can't! She'd run away. I don't want to intimidate her. I think a letter is my best shot."</p><p> </p><p>"Let's talk about this over food, alright?" Leonie shuttles both of them out the door. "I'm starving here."</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Bernadetta feels a pang of guilt as she helps dump Dorothea's pile of valentine gifts into the nearby trash can. A brand-new stuffed teddy bear stares plaintively up at her from the bottom of the bin, holding a plush heart in its adorable paws.</p><p> </p><p>"Um, are you sure you want to just throw these away?" she warbles, tearing her eyes away from the orphaned teddy bear.</p><p> </p><p>Dorothea snaps shut her compact mirror with a sigh. "You can keep the bear if you want to, Bern."</p><p> </p><p>Bernadetta plunges a hand into the trash and pulls it out, squeezing the poor thing to her chest. Dorothea's name is printed on the stuffed heart, but Bernadetta doesn't mind.</p><p> </p><p>"I am not understanding this flirtatious mail," announces Petra, reading through one of the cards Dorothea found stuffed in her locker this morning. "It seems they like you very much, Dorothea. Do you still want me to be disposing of this?"</p><p> </p><p>"They're just empty words, Petra. It's not like any of these admirers actually care about me." A frown settles on Dorothea's heart-shaped face. For as long as Bernadetta has known her, Dorothea always gets like this on Valentine's Day.</p><p> </p><p>"They do not seem empty," Petra admits, before letting the card slip from her fingers into the trash bin.</p><p> </p><p>Catching sight of Bernadetta's concerned expression, Dorothea lights into an effervescent smile, green eyes sparkling. "Well, enough about me! What about you two? Did you receive any valentines this year?"</p><p> </p><p>"Yes, but not from the person I would like to be receiving flirtatious mail from," sighs Petra, absently thumbing the pile of missives on her desk.  Despite being new to the school, Petra has many admirers from all across campus. She is, without equal, the most gorgeous foreign exchange student to have ever graced the halls of Garreg Mach High.</p><p> </p><p>"Oh, do you have your eyes on someone? Really? Who is it?" Dorothea claps her hands together. "Shall I deliver them a singing telegram for you? Lunch isn't over yet and it'll be my treat!"</p><p> </p><p>"No, please," Petra manages, her cheeks turning an attractive shade of pink. "In Brigid, we are not celebrating this holiday. There is no need to be singing for me."</p><p> </p><p>"Oh, that's no fun," pouts Dorothea, before she turns her charming looks onto Bernadetta. "Bern, what about you? Any valentines this year?"</p><p> </p><p>Bernadetta shakes her head. "Same as last year." Meaning zero. <em> After all, who would like a girl like me? </em></p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Moments after the last bell, Dorothea hears a notification on her phone that provides her an opportunity to stop listening to the boy talking at her.</p><p> </p><p>"Shush for a moment, Ferdie," she tells him in clipped tones, an elegant finger held up to emphasize her request for silence. He stops mid-sentence about the upcoming student council vote while she glances at her phone. A single message screams up at her from the screen.</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong> <em>'EMERGENCY!!!!!!!'</em> </strong>
</p><p> </p><p>Across the quad, she catches Petra's eye and jerks her chin to the school parking lot.</p><p> </p><p>"Have to go, Ferdie," she sighs with mock weariness.</p><p> </p><p>"Wait, Dorothea, what about--"</p><p> </p><p>"Ferdie," she says sharply, "we can continue this conversation some other time. I have an important date to make."</p><p> </p><p>Ferdinand stares at her retreating back. "With who?"</p><p> </p><p>"Oh, wouldn't you like to know?" Dorothea winks back at him once before she disappears from view.</p><p> </p><p>Petra meets her in front of an ancient sedan in the student parking area, open concern on her face. "We must be hurrying. Her message is very distressing to me."</p><p> </p><p>Dorothea curses as the key on her old car door catches in the rusty lock. She gives the door a slam with the heel of her hand, and the key turns the remainder of the way. Her door opens with a creak and she hops inside, leaning over to the passenger side to let Petra inside. She nearly reverses into Caspar, who jumps out of the way with a shout. He stumbles back and knocks into Hilda, who splashes her textbooks all over the pavement.</p><p> </p><p>"Our apologies!" Petra calls out the window as Dorothea floors it out of the parking lot and into the road.</p><p> </p><p>They reach their destination in five minutes flat. Dorothea's banged-up vehicle screeches into a parking space and both girls hop out, dashing to the doors and flinging them open. Bernadetta looks up at them, her gray eyes as large as saucers. They squeeze into their regular cafe booth breathlessly.</p><p> </p><p>"We got here as fast as we could, Bern!" Dorothea exclaims, clutching the girl's clammy hands with her own. "Are you okay? What happened?"</p><p> </p><p>"I...uh--I'm...there's..." Bernadetta stutters fruitlessly, looking distraught. Finally, she slides a piece of notebook paper across the table.</p><p> </p><p>"A ransom note?" Dorothea gasps, so loudly the table over turns to look at them. She gives them a glare and they turn back to their drinks. Before either of them can read through the note, a waitress swings by with their usual beverages: two berry-blend teas, and one spiced ginger tea.</p><p> </p><p>"Thanks so much, darling," Dorothea says sweetly as they set down the drinks. She takes a fortifying whiff of her berry blend.</p><p> </p><p>"Is this paper the emergency?" Petra asks, unfolding the sheet and skimming its contents. </p><p> </p><p>Dorothea gently knocks heads with her seat partner as she reads over her shoulder.</p><p> </p><p>Bernadetta nods vigorously. "It was in my locker after school. W-what do I do?"</p><p> </p><p>"Goddess above," whispers Dorothea, "Bern, is this a <em> love letter </em>?"</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Bernadetta ducks into her English textbook as soon as Raphael shows up in class. He grins at her with stunning shamelessness, even giving her a wave. Not for the first time in her life, Bernadetta wishes she could be invisible. As soon as class is over, Bernadetta bolts out of the classroom, book bag bouncing wildly against her hip.</p><p> </p><p>Between classes, Raphael finally has the chance to make a pit-stop to his locker. He fumbles the lock, his heart thrumming nervously. He hopes she wrote back, but with the way she avoided him in class, he wouldn't be surprised if she didn't. It swings open and an envelope flutters to the floor, right between his sneakers.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>"Hello, Raphael. Thank you very much! I appreciate you letting me know. Sincerely, Bernie," Leonie recites, one brow lifted in bemusement. She hands him back the pink envelope and sheet of stationary paper decorated in dancing hedgehogs.</p><p> </p><p>"So...what does that mean?" Raphael blurts impatiently.</p><p> </p><p>Leonie shrugs. "I think it means what it says. It's a thank-you letter."</p><p> </p><p>Leonie isn't prepared for the look of dejection on Raphael's face. She quickly cuffs him around the neck. "Hey, I mean, what do I know, right? Maybe she's just really surprised and doesn't know what to think. Sorting through her feelings, you know?" Leonie glances over at Ignatz, the look in her eyes begging him to help her out.</p><p> </p><p>"Right," Ignatz pipes up encouragingly. "Give it some time. Maybe you two can try to be friends first and see how things work out from there. We could even help you write another letter, how's that?"</p><p> </p><p>Leonie glares daggers at him, but it is entirely too late. Raphael instantly perks up at the idea. "Yeah, that'd be great! Thanks!"</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Bernadetta nearly drops the stack of books on her foot when she finds another letter resting inside her locker at the end of the day. She looks around before briskly flipping it open. It's from Raphael again, and her heart does a little flip inside her rib cage. Rarely do people make the mistake of trying to talk to her more than once.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>He wants to be friends? With me? </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Her thumb rubs at the spot on the page where he has written his phone number. Bernadetta bites her lip. With courage she can't believe she has, she pulls out her phone. She doesn't receive a reply immediately. Eventually, she stops anxiously staring at her phone to focus on her homework.</p><p> </p><p>At 9:32 PM, Bernadetta's phone buzzes.</p><p> </p><p>The next day, Dorothea drops her chin against Bernadetta's shoulder. Coyly, she sings, "Who are you texting?"</p><p> </p><p>Bernadetta squeaks, phone dropping unceremoniously into her lap.</p><p> </p><p>"Who's 'Terrifying Giant'?" Dorothea asks with a grin. Then, with a small gasp, "Don't tell me. It's that boy who confessed to you!"</p><p> </p><p>Bernadetta shakes her head vehemently. "It's n-not what you think! We're just friends!"</p><p> </p><p>Dorothea rocks back on her heels with a sinful smile. "I thought you didn't feel the same way and let the poor guy down."</p><p> </p><p>Bernadetta's cheeks turn a brilliant shade of red. "He just wants to be friends," she splutters, "that's all! Besides, Father would never let me..."</p><p> </p><p>"I'm just teasing you, Bern," Dorothea remarks airily, cocking her head. "If you want to be friends with our school's famous linebacker, who am I to stop you?"</p><p> </p><p>Bernadetta pales. "Famous?"</p><p> </p><p>Dorothea clucks like a mother hen. "Raphael Kirsten, number eighteen on the field. The best linebacker this school has had in ages. Ever since he joined freshman year, we've been breezing through state championships. He might not be the <em> cutest </em> boy on the football team, but there is no denying that he is the strongest."</p><p> </p><p>"He's cute," Bernadetta protests quietly.</p><p> </p><p>"Hm?"</p><p> </p><p>"N-nothing!"</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Weeks pass and Bernadetta finds herself looking forward to Raphael's messages. Occasionally, he sends her photos of the sunrise when he gets up early in the mornings to do drills for football. Sometimes, he asks her questions about English class, but she rarely offers up much in the way of conversation. For some reason, he doesn't seem to mind. None of their conversations are at all flirty, and Bernadetta starts to wonder if they should be.</p><p> </p><p>For the umpteenth time this week, Bernadetta stares straight ahead into Raphael, biting her lip. Their English teacher is covering acceptable topics for their upcoming essay, but all Bernadetta can seem to process is Raphael's perfect musculature. If she wanted to, she could graze her fingers along his spine. She has considered drawing him in her sketchbook more than once; more than twice even, she realizes guiltily. He raises his hand to ask a clarifying question, and his shirt sleeve slips, giving her an unimpeded view of his beautiful biceps. He is a star football player, and he absolutely looks the part.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Why would someone like him like me in the first place? I'm...a nobody. </em>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>"Hey, Bernie!" Raphael waves at her from down the hall. She stiffens at the front of her locker, searching for Petra who is supposed to be meeting her here any moment now.</p><p> </p><p>"H-hi," she manages when he trots up to her, barely out of breath. A large gym bag is slung across his shoulders. Raphael's t-shirt stretches snugly across his broad chest, and Bernadetta has to physically tear her eyes away from it.</p><p> </p><p>Raphael scratches the back of his neck, for once, looking rather nervous. "Sorry, I know you don't like being cornered like this, but I'm going to be offline for a football retreat for a couple days so I thought I'd ask you in person."</p><p> </p><p>"Ask me what?" she inquires, her voice rising several traitorous octaves.</p><p> </p><p> "You don't seem like much of a football fan, but I thought...would you want to see our semi-finals match? It's this Friday." He gazes at her hopefully, and Bernadetta sucks in a breath. There is something about him looking so contrite and vulnerable, like she is holding his heart in her hands, that makes her feel dizzy.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Father would never let me go. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>She swallows thickly. "I...can't."</p><p> </p><p>The disappointment is obvious, but he shoots her a smile anyway. "Oh, that's okay."</p><p> </p><p>"Kirsten!" Raphael peers around her to catch Caspar, their school's running-back, yelling at him from across the quad. "Bus is about to go! C'mon!"</p><p> </p><p>"Be right there!" Raphael shouts back. "See ya, Bernie!"</p><p> </p><p>Bernadetta fists her hands into her skirt, watching him disappear out the school gates. She sags against her locker, feeling spent. Out of the corner of her eye, she spies Petra approaching with a look of curiosity.</p><p> </p><p>"Bernie, are you feeling unwell?"</p><p> </p><p>"Oh, I'm fine," she lies. "Did you still want to borrow those books you mentioned?”</p><p> </p><p>Petra's dark eyes brighten immediately. "Yes, I would like to very much!”</p><p> </p><p>Bernadetta opens her locker and pulls out the pile of requested novels, ones from her childhood that she hasn't touched in ages: <em> Loog and the Maiden of Wind</em>, <em> Sword of Kyphon</em>, and <em> The Luna Knight's Tale. </em></p><p> </p><p>"Why the sudden interest in these books?" </p><p> </p><p>A blush rushes to Petra's face. "There is no special reason. I am merely curious."</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>The day of the football semi-finals comes and goes. When Bernadetta shows up to school the next day, there are celebratory banners pinned all over the halls. In English class, half the class congratulates Raphael on a great game. She tries to, but the words don't unglue themselves from the roof of her mouth. At lunch, she sees Dimitri, their star quarterback, crowd-surfing in the middle of the quad. His handsome face, which is seldom drawn up in a smile, breaks into a buoyant laugh as they chant his name.</p><p> </p><p>Bernadetta watches from across the quad as Raphael is pulled into the festivities, his towering form swallowed up by the sheer number of students circling around the football team. Bernadetta pops some homecooked food into her mouth, a twinge of regret twisting in her belly. Beside her on the bench, Petra appears to be reading intently, her finger dragging across the page as she forms the words in her mouth. She's been burning through those novels Bernadetta lent her at an alarming pace, in spite of the fact that none of them are written in her first language.</p><p> </p><p>"Petra," Bernadetta sets her bento aside, "how do you know if you like someone?"</p><p> </p><p>Petra blinks at her, a few stray wisps of hair caught in the corner of her mouth. "Are you meaning the romantic 'like' or the platonic 'like'?"</p><p> </p><p>Bernadetta drops her eyes to the ground, her voice whisper-quiet. "Romantic."</p><p> </p><p>"I think if you are romantically liking someone, you will be wanting to spend much time with them."</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> ...Check. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>"And feeling excitement when you see or hear from that person."</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> ...Check. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Petra gazes up thoughtfully at the cloud-riddled sky. "And wanting to hold their hands, or kiss them."</p><p> </p><p>Bernadetta stares at her friend, like a deer caught in headlights. "W-what?"</p><p> </p><p>"Kissing and hand-holding...or is that not the way in Fódlan?" Petra frowns at the bizarre expression on her friend's face and then turns, searching for Dorothea to get a second opinion.</p><p> </p><p>Dorothea breaks off from her conversation with Edelgard, the student council president, and comes up to them with a puzzled smile on her face. "What's wrong, Bern? You look like you've just eaten a sour lemon!" she jests with a dimple appearing on her cheek.</p><p> </p><p>"She is wanting to know," Petra belatedly registers Bernadetta's panicked hand-waving, but doesn't stop talking, "about romantic attraction to people. Are kissing and hand-holding romantic gestures in this country, Dorothea?"</p><p> </p><p>"Oh, they sure are," Dorothea replies with relish.</p><p> </p><p>"Is that helping you, Bernie?" Petra's question only makes the smile on Dorothea's face widen.</p><p> </p><p>"Yes," she murmurs, wishing she could take back the question entirely.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>"I don't think she likes me."</p><p> </p><p>Ignatz chokes on his beverage. Leonie thwacks him on the back until a small piece of ice sails off the table and onto the restaurant floor. Ignatz pounds his chest with the side of his fist, coughing the remainder of his drink out of his windpipe. Raphael stirs his drink with a straw, all the gusto gone from his face.</p><p> </p><p>"Where's this coming from, Raph?" Leonie asks gently.</p><p> </p><p>"Are you talking about Bern--" Leonie silences Ignatz with a glare, and he claps his mouth shut.</p><p> </p><p>Raphael sighs into his burger, half of it untouched. "I asked her to the football game and she said no."</p><p> </p><p>Raphael has never invited anyone to see his football games outside the two of them and his immediate family. Leonie and Ignatz exchange looks of worry. They both think the same thing.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Oh, no. He has it bad. </em>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Dorothea slips into the cafe booth. "So, what is it you needed to tell me, Bern?"</p><p> </p><p>"Where's Petra?"</p><p> </p><p>"Oh, she told me she's staying after school today."</p><p> </p><p>"What?" Bernadetta wrings her hands together nervously. "Why?"</p><p> </p><p>"I'm not sure," Dorothea admits. "We could sneak back into school and find out--"</p><p> </p><p>Bernadetta vehemently shakes her head. "They could still be practicing right now..."</p><p> </p><p>"They?"</p><p> </p><p>"The...football team," Bernadetta mutters, blushing.</p><p> </p><p>"Oh," Dorothea repeats teasingly, "<em>the football team</em>. So you're telling me you don't want the chance to see Raphael practicing with those big, strong muscles--"</p><p> </p><p>Bernadetta yelps, jumping in her seat and knocking the back of her head soundly against the wooden back of the booth. She quickly shoots back down, curling into the seat as if she could will herself to disappear into it.</p><p> </p><p>Dorothea's hands are pressed against her mouth in shock. "I'm so sorry, Bern. I didn't know you'd react like that. Forgive me--"</p><p> </p><p>"I'm fine! I promise," Bernadetta replies, then she hides her face in her hands. "It's just...um, I really like him."</p><p> </p><p>"What?"</p><p> </p><p>Bernadetta says it into her hands, rather than at her friend, but Dorothea hears it all the same. "I really like Raphael."</p><p> </p><p>Dorothea gasps. "You do?"</p><p> </p><p>"Do you...do you think...it's too late?"</p><p> </p><p>"Too late for what?"</p><p> </p><p>"Do you think he still likes me? I...did turn him down last time."</p><p> </p><p>"Goddess above, he asked you out and you didn't tell me?"</p><p> </p><p>"N-no! It wasn't a date. He asked me to come watch him at the football game...but you know my father..."</p><p> </p><p>Dorothea leans back in her seat, green eyes wide. "Raphael Kirsten asked you to watch him play?"</p><p> </p><p>"Yes? Is that strange?"</p><p> </p><p>"Strange? No, Bern! That means he's really into you!"</p><p> </p><p>"B-but that was weeks ago..."</p><p> </p><p>"Did you want to go?"</p><p> </p><p>Bernadetta stills. "Yes, I did. But I couldn't. Father would never--and someone like Raphael? He'd be so mad."</p><p> </p><p>Dorothea reaches over the table and places her hands atop hers. "I understand, but this is about what you want, Bern. If he asked you again, would you want to go?"</p><p> </p><p>"Yes," she admits softly.</p><p>
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  <br/>
</p><hr/><p> </p><p>The week of the final football game arrives. That Monday, Bernadetta does her hair a little differently. She braids it to one side, weaving a silky ribbon through it. She borrows a little mascara and lipgloss from Dorothea and applies it to her face. She studies her comically long lashes and shiny pink lips in the mirror. Bernadetta feels like an alien pretending to be human.</p><p> </p><p>She pulls on her shortest dress, a simple black number that ends just above the knee, and pulls on a plain cardigan before a voice in her head tells her to go bolder. She rustles around in her closet for something, and eventually pulls out a denim jacket that she always liked but never felt brave enough to wear.</p><p> </p><p>"Wow, Bernadetta. You look super cute today!" Hilda says cheerfully as she makes it through the school gates.</p><p> </p><p>"Um, t-thank you!" she replies, mortified that she's been noticed already. She ducks into her first class, sinking into her seat and propping a large textbook in front of her face. Fortunately, her first few classes pass without incident. As she's hurrying to English, someone with a visitor pass hanging from their neck hails her, hoping to get directions to the auditorium. She ends up later than usual, although the tardy bell hasn't rung yet. She slinks into the classroom and tries to make it to her desk without being seen. Mercifully, no one glances her way.</p><p> </p><p>No one except for Raphael Kirsten.</p><p> </p><p>He catches himself staring and quickly jerks his head down. Bernadetta feels her entire body burst into flame. She hangs her head out of habit and scoots past him to her desk.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Am I imagining things or...is he tense? </em>
</p><p> </p><p>She busies herself with grabbing the necessary books out of her bag, when Raphael turns to face her. She freezes, clutching a book to her chest.</p><p> </p><p>"Hey, Bernie," he clears his throat, "you look really nice today."</p><p> </p><p>"H-hi, thank you," she mumbles back, barely able to look him in the eye.</p><p> </p><p>"Can I ask you something after class?" he asks her quietly.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Goddess above. This is it, Bernie. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>"Okay."</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Rapheal rarely gets the butterflies, but right now, it feels like there is an entire forest of them in his belly. He walks Bernadetta to her locker, palms sweating. When they reach the locker, she turns and puts the full force of her gorgeous gray-eyed gaze on him. The air leaves his lungs instantly.</p><p> </p><p>"Um," she musters, fighting the warmth in her cheeks, "you wanted to ask me something?"</p><p> </p><p>Raphael takes a deep breath. "I was wondering, would you want to come to the big game on Friday?"</p><p> </p><p>"To watch you play?" Bernadetta's eyes flicker up just in time to catch the blush on his cheeks.</p><p> </p><p>Raphael tries to laugh the nerves off, but the way Bernadetta is looking at him is making it intensely difficult to be anything but nervous. "I mean, not just me. I'm just one guy."</p><p> </p><p>"I wouldn't be going to see anyone else, though," Bernadetta admits quietly.</p><p> </p><p>Raphael's mind stutters to a stop. <em> Don't...overthink it, Raph. She just means...wait, what does she mean? Does she like me? </em></p><p> </p><p>"I'll come."</p><p> </p><p>"YES!" Raphael pumps his fist in the air, drawing the curious gazes of students up and down the hall.</p><p> </p><p>Berandetta's eyes go wide at the sudden mass of attention. She abruptly opens her locker and hides herself in it by pretending to rifle through some random papers.</p><p> </p><p>"Sorry, Bernie, just got a little excited." Raphael lowers his voice apologetically, though he can't hide his grin. He leans over her, and spots little sketches pinned to the inside of her locker. "Whoa. Did you draw those? That's so cool!"</p><p> </p><p>"They're just silly little drawings," she replies, mortified.</p><p> </p><p>"Are you kidding me? Those drawings are amazing, just like you."</p><p> </p><p>Bernadetta flushes a bright pink. "T-thank you, Raphael. That's really nice of you." She looks up at him in time to catch him biting his bottom lip and immediately averts her eyes.</p><p> </p><p><em> Oh, Goddess above. I-isn't that the look? The 'I want to kiss you look' in all those movies? </em>Bernadetta wonders with a jolt of dizzying panic.</p><p> </p><p>"Kirsten!" Caspar waves at him from down the hall.</p><p> </p><p>The soft look disappears from Raphael's face as he looks over his shoulder. To her surprise, Bernadetta feels a pang of disappointment.</p><p> </p><p>"C'mon, we're gonna be late for Biology."</p><p> </p><p>"Yeah, be right there!"</p><p> </p><p>Raphael gives her a bright smile, one that crinkles the corners of his eyes. "So I'll see you at the game?"</p><p> </p><p>"Yes, I'll be there," she replies breathlessly.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>When Bernadetta reaches the porch of Petra's house, she turns around and nervously waves at her father. He watches her from the car with a grim expression on his face, no doubt already wondering if he'd been too lenient in allowing her to study at a friend's during a school night.</p><p> </p><p>The front door swings open, and Bernadetta feels a flood of relief at seeing Petra's familiar face. Petra waves back to her father and urges Bernadetta to come into the house, closing the door behind them. After a moment, Bernadetta hears the rumble of her father's car take off and it's only then that she feels herself begin to relax.</p><p> </p><p>"Bern, you made it!" Dorothea rushes up to her quickly, enveloping her in a hug. "So he bought the story. I knew it would work!"</p><p> </p><p>Bernadetta sags into her friend's arms, swallowing down her nerves. She can't believe she's doing this. Lying to her father so that she can go to her very first football game, to...what? To see a boy she likes? The idea is terrifying and thrilling all at the same time.</p><p> </p><p>Petra and Dorothea usher her into Petra's bedroom, a large and stately affair befitting a diplomat's daughter. Petra's walls are adorned with photos of her childhood in Brigid. Laying on the large four-poster bed is a long-sleeved dress, white wool coat, and a beautiful knit scarf. It's a gorgeous and elegant ensemble, compared to the t-shirt and sweats Bernadetta left the house in.</p><p> </p><p>"Hurry, we want to see what you look like in them!" Dorothea exclaims, clapping her hands together.</p><p> </p><p>"Yes!" Petra agrees, beaming. "We cannot be waiting!"</p><p> </p><p>Bernadetta feels her eyes begin to mist. She is so grateful to have friends like this. "Petra...Dorothea...I--"</p><p> </p><p>"C'mon, Bern," says Dorothea with a knowing smile, "we know you love us. We love you too." She collects the garments from the bed and shoves them into Bernadetta's waiting arms. "Hurry on, now! We don't want to be late!"</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Dorothea's vehicle shudders to a stop neatly in the parking lot. The doors open on creaky hinges as the three of them hop out of the car. The school parking lot is full of students and family members milling about, grabbing hand-made signs and various school spirit paraphernalia.</p><p> </p><p>Bernadetta's stomach drops, wondering if she should have made a sign to support Raphael. The blinding bright lights of the football field act as a beacon for them, guiding them to the school bleachers. Bernadetta marvels at all the little things: seeing her fellow classmates outside of class, cheerleaders warming up beside the field, the smell of fresh concession snacks. As they climb the bleachers to a spot far from the action, Bernadetta gazes around the enormous football field to see if she can find Raphael. He's nowhere to be seen.</p><p> </p><p>"Where..." she begins.</p><p> </p><p>"The players come out after the marching band," supplies Dorothea helpfully. She wraps her stylish coat closer to her as the wind tangles her dark locks.  </p><p> </p><p>"The band will play?" Bernadetta gasps, unable to stifle her excitement.</p><p> </p><p>"They sure will!" Dorothea replies. "Oh, how about here?" Dorothea lays out a blanket on the bench and Bernadetta gingerly sits down. They have a view of the entire field from this high up, although Bernadetta worries she might be too far to see Raphael.</p><p> </p><p>"Looks like you're not the only one here to see a boy," whispers Dorothea conspiratorially. She points her finger down several rows at Petra, who is currently engaged in conversation with someone Bernadetta recognizes: Ashe, the president of their school's literature club.</p><p> </p><p>"I thought she was going to sit with us," mumbles Bernadetta, a little disappointed.</p><p> </p><p>"Oh, Bern, don't worry. She will." Dorothea winks. "I think she's just taking the opportunity to flirt a little bit."</p><p> </p><p>As the bleachers begin to fill in with more people, Petra settles down beside them, smiling down at her phone.</p><p> </p><p>"Got his number, did you?" purrs Dorothea playfully.</p><p> </p><p>"It is for...doing the homework," Petra replies, biting her lip to hide a big smile.</p><p> </p><p>"Wait," says Bernadetta, a puzzle clicking into place, "are you planning to join lit club? That's why you borrowed those books from me, right?"</p><p> </p><p>Dorothea gasps, delightfully scandalized, from Bernadetta's other side. "Petra, you never told me you were going to join a club for a boy!"</p><p> </p><p>"Please, do not be saying that so loudly!" she hisses, a blush spotting her cheeks.</p><p> </p><p>Dorothea and Bernadetta burst into giggles beside her, and Petra huddles closer hoping to smother some of the sound before it makes it to Ashe's ears.</p><p> </p><p>Announcements from the speakers ring out on the football field and the three of them quiet down, waiting for the game to begin. Moments later, the Garreg Mach marching band spills onto the field in neat, orderly lines dressed in their iconic black and gold uniforms. Bernadetta claps in excitement as they begin to march in formation and play a song she recognizes from her time milling about the quad. The music rumbles her bones and she feels electric, like she's finally a part of the school culture after all these years.</p><p> </p><p>"They're so talented!" she yells over the song at her friends. She can hear Dorothea singing along next to her, and Petra humming what she remembers of the song. Bernadetta cannot believe she gets to have a night like this. It's already turning out to be spectacular.</p><p> </p><p>After the songs, the football players come out onto the field to waves of ear-splitting cheers. The energy is at an all time high for the last game of the season. Bernadetta winces, placing her hands over ears to muffle some of the noise around her. She peers over the heads of her schoolmates, trying to determine which of the football players in the line-up is Raphael. With their uniform and helmets on, she doesn't have much to go on except for their jersey numbers.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Oh, that's right. Raphael is number eighteen, so...oh, there he is! </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Bernadetta's hands tighten in her scarf. She wonders how much he pays attention to the bleachers, whether he'll even see her tonight.</p><p> </p><p>As the game starts, Bernadetta finds her eyes focused on Raphael's movements on the field. Bernadetta does not pretend to know how football works, but it looks as if there is a lot of tackling and running the football to one of the ends of the field. Raphael, for his part, seems to do most of the tackling, preventing the opposing team from ever making a goal. She winces whenever he takes a particularly nasty-looking tumble, hoping that he is okay.</p><p> </p><p>She uses cues from the crowd to determine when to score so that she can cheer, albeit quietly. During half-time, as the football players leave the field, she spies Raphael pulling off his helmet and staring up at the bleachers in her direction. His blonde hair is a tousled, sweaty mess and he looks properly winded from the first half of the game, but still, she thinks he looks handsome.</p><p> </p><p>Bernadetta leans forward in her seat, wondering whether or not to try to get his attention with a wave. Before Bernadetta has a chance to decide, another player claps Raphael on the back, grinning, and they both disappear off the field.</p><p> </p><p>"So, what do you think? He's pretty good, isn't he?" muses Dorothea, chin propped in her palm.</p><p> </p><p>Bernadetta tries to hide the blush on her face. "Um, yes, I suppose so."</p><p> </p><p>Dorothea cracks into a wide grin, but refrains from teasing her.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>After the game is over, a wild frenzy overtakes the crowd. Some students and families near the front rows leap out of their seats, spilling onto the field to congratulate the players on their decisive win. Their football team is going to the state championships, fourth year in a row. Bernadetta peeks at the time on her phone, and her face falls.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> It's almost curfew. I have to go back or else Father will be very upset. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Dorothea folds up the blanket and throws an arm over Bernadetta's shoulder. "Did you have fun, Bern?"</p><p> </p><p>"Yeah," she begins, her voice heavy with disappointment, "I just wish I could stay a little longer."</p><p> </p><p>Petra gives her a sympathetic look. "Next time, we will be asking for a longer 'study' session, yes?"</p><p> </p><p>Bernadetta shakes her head. "I don't know...what if Father says no?"</p><p> </p><p>Dorothea shakes her shoulders. "Bern, let's not think like that right now. Look, we got you to your first football game! We won too!"</p><p> </p><p>Bernadetta manages to return a weak smile. "You're right."</p><p> </p><p>With most of the spectators either on the field or already in their cars, the path to the parking lot is relatively quiet and empty. Bernadetta finds herself humming the opening song for the half-time show as she gazes up at the stars.</p><p> </p><p>"Bernie!"</p><p> </p><p>The three of them turn toward the voice at the same time. Running up behind them, with a sports bag slung over his shoulder, is Raphael.</p><p> </p><p>Dorothea and Petra exchange significant looks. "We shall be meeting you at the car, then," says Petra with a nod, keeping her expression carefully neutral. Dorothea, on the other hand, winks as she grabs Petra's hand and drags her away. Aghast, Bernadetta watches them leave, her feet frozen in place.</p><p> </p><p>When Raphael makes it to her side, she woodenly turns to face him, smiling nervously. "Oh, um, hi."</p><p> </p><p>He grins down at her, his chest still heaving from the exertion of the earlier match. His face glistens with sweat and he smells faintly of fresh grass. Out of his football uniform, he looks like he's just come from the gym, wearing a sleeveless tee and shorts. He breaks into a quiet chuckle. "You made it!"</p><p> </p><p>"Oh," Bernadetta nods, tucking some hair behind her ear, "yes."</p><p> </p><p>"So what'd you think?"</p><p> </p><p>Bernadetta leans back on her heels, taking in a deep breath. "I thought it was wonderful. I've never been to a game before and...it was so fun!" She ducks her head, embarrassed. "And you were great out there. Thank you for inviting me." When she looks back up at him, she could almost swear he is blushing. She peers curiously around him, wondering if his family or friends are nearby and waiting for him.</p><p> </p><p>As if reading her mind, he says, "Oh, I told them to wait for me in the car. I wanted to come talk to you before you left."</p><p> </p><p>"Talk to me?" Bernadetta swallows a nervous lump down her throat. It takes a moment to realize how close Raphael already is standing next to her. He shifts the bag on his shoulder, biting his lip. </p><p> </p><p>"So, I was looking for you when the game started," he begins, licking his lips nervously. </p><p> </p><p>She watches his tongue dance across his bottom lip, transfixed by the sight of it. Remembering herself, she coughs into her hand. "O-oh, I was sitting in the back...um, I wasn't sure--"</p><p> </p><p>He smiles, his golden eyes softening. "I saw you. I saw you right away."</p><p> </p><p>Bernadetta’s heart begins to beat like a wild animal trying to escape her rib cage. "You did?" <em> What does that mean? That he was looking for me? </em></p><p> </p><p>"You're like a good luck charm, Bernie. As soon as I saw you, I felt great! The game was a piece of cake after that." He laughs, a little self-consciously, then meets her eyes again. "So...I was wondering..."</p><p> </p><p><em> A good luck charm? </em> She feels touched by the sentiment. She's never been anyone's good luck charm. She feels dizzy, or maybe giddy, with happiness. </p><p> </p><p>The next words out of Raphael’s mouth wipe her mind completely blank.</p><p> </p><p>"Bernie, will you go out with me?”</p><p> </p><p>She nearly chokes on her own spit. “G-go out...w-with you?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, see, I really, <em> really </em>like you and... I thought since you accepted my invitation, I hoped you might feel the same way about me." He watches her carefully, almost shyly. "Maybe you and I could get to know each other better."</p><p> </p><p>Bernadetta feels an electric tingle shoot up her spine. Raphael Kirsten, a perfectly nice and normal person, is confessing his feelings for her, <em> to her </em>. She stares at him, dazed.</p><p> </p><p>Raphael, awaiting her answer, shifts nervously on his feet, looking for all the world, like what she is about to say will determine the fate of the universe.</p><p> </p><p>“Like on a d-date?” she splutters incredulously.</p><p> </p><p>He tries to suppress a smile, which she finds incredibly endearing. “Yeah, that’s the plan. So, what do you say?”</p><p> </p><p><em> Say it, Bernie, before you chicken out. Say that you like him back! </em> </p><p> </p><p>“Um, I…” she stammers.</p><p> </p><p>Raphael blinks, cocking his head slightly to the side. His blonde eyebrows crease in concern. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Goddess above, I bet he wants to take it back already! I’m just a silly-- </em>
</p><p> </p><p>“Are you okay, Bernie?” he asks, genuinely worried. “You don’t have to answer me now, if you need some time to think about it--”</p><p> </p><p>“N-no! I don’t need time to think about it!” she rambles, so quickly she feels like the words are tumbling over themselves to get out of her mouth. “I like you! I really like you, Raphael. I’d love to,” she gulps, suddenly flustered by her own uncultured bluntness, “...um, go out with you…” She bites down on her bottom lip, hard, wondering if he is about to laugh at her and tell her all of this was a joke--</p><p> </p><p>"Really?" He looks <em> so </em> happy, like the sun after a rainstorm. Suddenly she has the urge to <em> do something </em>--</p><p> </p><p>Bernadetta gets up on her tip-toes and brushes her lips against the bottom of his chin, barely able to reach him in her heels. </p><p> </p><p>He startles, his golden eyes widening in shock. </p><p> </p><p>“Um, s-sorry, I thought it was the right time to--”</p><p> </p><p>He gives her a big, goofy grin, his half-lidded eyes giving her a faraway look. “Wow.”</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Did he not like it? Oh, stupid Bernie! You shouldn’t have done that. What were you thinking? </em>
</p><p> </p><p>She looks over at the parking lot, searching for an escape route. "I, um, have to get going! My Father is going to be really upset if I'm late."</p><p> </p><p>"Hey, wait," he says softly, leading her back to him by the wrist. "Can I ask you something else before you go?"</p><p> </p><p>Bernadetta flushes to the tips of her ears, mortified. <em> Maybe he’s changed his mind about the date? Wait...is that...the look? The 'I want to kiss you'-- </em></p><p> </p><p>"Can I kiss you?" he breathes, his soft breath fanning against her cheek. His eyes are hazy with desire.</p><p> </p><p>Her body thrums with excitement at the mere thought. Bernadetta's heart beats like a drum in her chest, so loud that can barely hear herself respond. "Yes.” </p><p> </p><p>Raphael leans down, gently cupping her face with his hand, and presses a kiss to her lips. Her eyelashes flutter shut as she savors the sweet taste of him. Bernadetta leans into him, her hands fisting into his shirt, feeling the delightfully hard planes of his chest against her body. Raphael sighs into her mouth, his other hand wrapping around her tiny waist to bring them closer.</p><p> </p><p>Bernadetta cannot wait to tell her friends that she kissed star football player Raphael Kirsten, <em>twice</em>.</p><p>
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  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I'm back! I've been busy with zines and other fun writing projects, and I'm so excited to share them with you when they're ready. If you're curious about any of them, hit me up on Twitter.</p><p>In the meantime, I hope you enjoy some sweet and fluffy Raphadetta, my one true weakness. I have so many ideas for this pair, but only so much time on my hands. This one was partially inspired by the movie The Half of It. I'm weak against himbos.</p><p>As always, comments are appreciated and incredibly motivational. (Seriously, I love reading them so much. Thank you to everyone who has commented on my work. It means everything.) &lt;3</p></blockquote></div></div>
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